Wulfric
by Wolf the Braineater
Summary: A postDH Draco fic without the cheesy crap that goes with it.  Draco is lost, weary, and hunted.  Expect loads of violence, a touch of suspense, a heaping of mystery, and a smattering of romance.  Not the first fic I've written but probably the best.
1. The Shark and the Diver

**Here's a mentioning from the author:**

**If you're looking for fluff, mindless rambling, and countless unintentional grammatical errors...**

**This fic is not for you.**

**-Lycan**

Night moved swiftly to blanket the Black Forest. Feverishly, he stumbled through knee-high undergrowth hounded by both the fear and sweat clinging to his back. Yet as he panted with weariness and shook from exhaustion, rest was some far away fantasy; and oasis invisible. So he continued in the forever shadows of scowling trees, doggedly and hunted. Lost. The summer brush echoing bitterly underfoot was joined in pain with his aching, wheezing breath. Lost, he carried on. When he fell, dark trees would muffle his cries to silence. Wavering, he would stand again nursing his wounds. Onward in flight, chased by those he could not see. Only the creeping tendrils of dawn saw him prostrate upon the earth, claimed by nightmares. It was not the sounds of birds he was greeted with upon awakening, but the fierce snarl of thunder and the howling wind. Whimpering, he crawled beneath a tree, taking refuge from the seeping wet leaked by the towering canopy. So complete was his misery, poignantly displayed by cheeks stained by tears. So utter was his despair. But fear can smother all emotion so that when the storm passed he continued on, half-dead; a ghost in reverse. Torn apart by fear. Fear and the injustice done. For both, he was lost.

**Chapter I**

"Bullocks."

Draco cursed softly as he stared at the mushroom in his hand, deciding whether or not to eat it. Certainly the gray fungus looked harmless. As far as fungi go though, one could never be too sure.

The filtered green light of the forest glowed damply around him, still dripping from the recent storm. Hyperaware of his sodden, dirty, and exhausted state he shuddered involuntarily.

Perhaps the mushroom would kill him?

For a moment Draco seriously considered this thought, but discarded it along with the mushroom. It thudded softly in the mud. He knew he'd never have the courage to knowingly consume a poison. Never the strength to hurt himself, let alone take his life. He sighed, bitterness welling within him and acute hunger pinching his stomach. Three days of this incessant pain, gnawing away like a worm on his insides.

Did this hunger make him more aware? Sharpen his senses?

A petty thought. The only awareness he had was of his feverish, sickly form trembling from abuse. And the trees seemed to echo his discomfort, shivering from an unseen breeze. The ambient light was dissipating, heralding the coming of night. An ominous, dripping dark crawling about to form an unbearable coffin, suffocating and all consuming him until not but an echo remains.

A chill of panic ran up Draco's spine, urging and overwhelming. But it was a repeated chill and he knew not to listen, not to run blindly like the night before. It wasn't the dark that hunted him anyway.

And besides that, he couldn't _run_ if he wanted to.

But walk he must. So Draco walked, or more like stumbled between indistinguishable trees, shrubs, and various other forest objects. Up and down the rolling landscape, one foot precariously in front of the other, trying his best not to think about who or where he was. Most of all why he was there. Those thoughts were painful and took energy he did not have. Like a zombie he moved for some time through the woodland, which was losing its color even faster now. Up, down, up…

Draco found himself looking down into a small clearing containing a big bump and two little bumps.

Boulders perhaps?

In the growing dark it was hard to tell. He hoped to whatever god was out there for the lumps to be boulders. Slowly inching forward he squinted to see the dark objects. It was no good though, for all three remained stubbornly fuzzy and gray. Draco unconsciously reached for his wand, only to quell his dread when he remembered it wasn't there. As a recourse he picked up a hefty stick, not really knowing whether or not it would do much good against three boulder-sized something-or-others. Regardless, he continued to creep up to the clearing; his feet picking their way through the leaf litter, avoiding noise.

Near the edge now, he involuntarily gripped a tree in an effort not to panic.

It was a crude mistake, however, for at the sound of bark being crushed beneath Draco's grasp the mother bear whipped her head around.

Maybe she was blind?

It was a foolish thought; Draco knew this as he desperately looked for an escape. The bear emitted a blood chilling growl and paced forward.

He dared not even breathe, like a deer staring down a semi. Only this semi had fangs two inches long and the strength to use them. The cubs moved behind their mother, which seemed to only channel her aggression.

With a roar, she charged.

It was alarming how fast she moved and even more so how fast Draco had darted, given his condition, away and around the perimeter of the clearing. She was quicker though, and with a mere swat batted him off his feet and into a heap on the ground. He screamed in blind terror as she bore down upon him. Desperately, he lashed at her with a kick. She however caught his leg in her gaping mouth and, not bothered by her flailing quarry, shattered his leg above the knee in one sickening clamp.

Draco howled ghoulishly as pain shocked his body, hot blood pouring from the bear's mouth and pooling upon the dirt. As if he were some perverse chew toy, she sat down and placed a paw thoughtfully upon his abdomen. His shrieking was renewed as she attempted to remove his leg but instead was rewarded with a snap as his kneecap splintered.

Draco clawed at the earth desperately, searching for something, anything…

And his hand came across the glorious stick.

With an almost Herculean effort, he brought the limb cracking cleanly against the bear's head. She complied by dropping him in plain confusion. Praying for refuge, Draco looked about and was rewarded with a half-uprooted tree. He seized those roots and hauled himself into the earthen pit within, just missing the snapping jaws of the bear whose fury had redoubled. She circled like a shark around a diver's cage, unable to squeeze between the ancient roots. His leg throbbed, weeping blood as he lay there intensely in pain and drifting through the edge of consciousness. The she-bear, digging and bellowing at the dirt, thrust a violent paw at Draco only to have him roll away further beneath the tree.

Her voice faded and only his haggard breathing remained.

And then nothing…

**God I hate bears. I really do.**

**LOOK! It's a bird. It's a plane. It's...a flock of inquiries that this chapter was supposed to have raised!**

**Why is our hero out in the woods? Why doesn't he have a wand? Will he survive?! (okay, stupid question)**

**Read more and find out.**

**Be polite and review.**

**Join the revolution.**

**Next chapter comes in about a week.**

**-Lycan**


	2. Like a Fish

**By the way, I forgot to place a disclaimer on the last one, so this one should do for both.**

**I don't own anything but my own ideas.**

**Good enough right?**

**I think so.**

**-Lycan**

_The world is a gray place._

_The world is a dark place._

_But the world is a cold place._

_So the world can never be hell…_

**Chapter II**

The first thing He noticed was the pain. Like a memory faded from time it drifted on the edge of his mind. Vaguely it circled, like an animal stalking prey.

Things weren't like that for long.

Before he even opened his eyes, Draco gasped. It was a riveting and torturous lightning so real in an instant. Pain, not just a memory anymore, growing and thrashing about. His leg burning and yet cold where the air kissed the torn flesh. Like a leech it sapped his strength. Every second was agonizing and every minute lasted hours. Forsaken, he lay there.

Somewhere nearby the bitter summer leaves were disturbed. Rhythmically, like footsteps. His pain was dulled by a shot of dread, writhing like an impaled serpent.

Had they found him?

Fear gripped Draco's throat as he tried to move. But his limbs were weighted and didn't comply. He struggled with his insensitive body, mind screaming for flight as the footsteps grew nearer. Every movement was torture but they couldn't catch him. He couldn't be caught. Not now. All he went through would be for naught. How did they find him? How did they know? It was impossible; it couldn't be.

"…please" he heard himself plead, throat dry and cracked. Leg a hopeless anchor, he could go nowhere but could not resign to what was next.

A shadow passed his closed eyes. The bear was nothing compared to this.

"Thot's a bit of work, isn't it?" A German accent uttered softly.

Draco couldn't express the relief caused by this disembodied voice so he cried instead with grateful, fatigued shudders. Tension built trepidation slowly sloughed away. It was just a German.

They hadn't found him…not yet at least.

He made an effort to open his eyes. And it was an effort, for they were heavy and numb and caked with weariness, tears leaking from their edges. With a sob the blurry figure came into focus.

It was a silhouette, broad-shouldered against the forest sun from above. A shadow housing green eyes welling with concern, frightening in sincerity.

"I never liked bears much." The blonde figure said plainly, bending over Draco's leg, which was unrecognizable near the knee. "They never seem to…"

So tired…

Draco couldn't keep his head up. Torpid, he lay there as light around him dissipated and the world ceased to be.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Some muggle song was playing over a radio…

Draco opened his eyes to prove he wasn't dreaming. He really was out of the forest.

But was he safe?

For a year now he'd been hiding among muggles unrecognized, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe the cover would last forever. Sometime, somewhere, someone would find him. Consequently this situation with his leg no longer unbearable with agony was highly suspicious. He threw off the blanket covering it. No contusions, lacerations, or even scarring. The leg lay there on the couch, not merely hanging on but completely connected to his body and in pristine condition.

Could a muggle have fixed such a wound?

He didn't know much about muggles, despite recent exposure, and had to admit in underestimating them. But still this was some feat.

Sitting up he spotted his clothes laying on the coffee-table. Draco pulled them on, surprised that they too had been mended. The living room he stood in however seemed worse for wear.

Drab 70's style wood-paneling stubbornly clung to the walls with complete disregard for aesthetics and the scent of stale beer, no doubt from the piles of bottles and cans littering the floor, permeated the atmosphere.

The room _seemed_ muggle enough. Draco collapsed back on the gaudy floral-patterned couch, tired and thinking about food. Gazing around he found himself studying a vague, unmemorable painting of a sailboat that hung proudly crooked on the wall.

"Glaud to see you're up and about."

The presumed owner of the painting entered the room and without so much as glancing at Draco buckled into an armchair. Like his furniture the man, and the sacred bottles surrounding him, had obviously seen better days.

"You can't be much younger than I h'am." He stated vaguely in a German accent as thick and unkempt as his hair. With a long draught a beer he held was emptied. The can crashed on a pile of others like it. "Vat brings you to zhis part of Deutsschland?" The last word carried a slur. "Out in zhe middle of nowhere, out in zhe woods near mauled to death?" He looked lazily at Draco with green eyes watered and bloodshot, cracks in an otherwise stony composure. "Oh," as if he had forgotten, "my name's Dieter by zhe vay."

"William." Draco responded without hesitation.

"You often partake in hond-to-hond combat vith a bear, Villiam?" A sad half-smile itched at his face, gone in an instant leaving only apathy behind. Dieter produced another can of beer from somewhere behind the armchair and like he other started to guzzle it down.

"You often host guests without offering them food?" Draco countered, trying his best to be light-hearted. The man either very drunk or had a bad lisp, either way he didn't want to offend the person who had very likely saved his life. Or more importantly, could end it.

Dieter stood, a now empty can joining in cacophonous chorus with the pile. "But of courshe, how very rhude of me. I should alvays sthink of my gueshts before myself." He shuffled off, but not without tripping up on the coffee-table first. With a bizarre, drunken little laugh, Dieter exited the room. "My mother vas alvays tellingu me thot."

Hasenpfeffer was the name. Stewed rabbit was the game.

He didn't have to wait long for Dieter to return with another beer and a bowl of the stuff. Draco received the two cold items graciously, oblivious in hunger to the gray slop that clung to his spoon and throat. And where the stew was bland the powerful drink was not. Like a black cat at midnight a hint of cloudiness began to slink in mind, blurring the edges of reason.

Dieter wandered through trash to the drawn window and pulled the shade back, stealthily peeking out. Brilliant sunlight from the outside world burst into the cave-like living room and in an instant was gone.

With surprise Draco realized it was morning and absently wondered how long he had slept. More important things had to be contended with however.

"So," he began casually, "Dieter is it? What do you do for a living?" He knew the man would be hapless in his inebriation.

"I'hm an actor," He replied distractedly, staring at the window shade, "in my troupe."

"Really?" Draco returned in mock interest, "Are you in a production now?"

Dieter was still fixed on the curtain. "Ya, a Scottish lord."

Draco's heart leapt. This was too easy. "Shakespeare, right?"

Dieter nodded.

"What character again?"

"Ehrrr…" the German fumbled, giving Draco a puzzled look.

"Your character, what's his name?" Came a little more forcefully.

Dieter stared at him blankly. "Shouldant you know eht?"

Dieter _was_ dodging for a good reason, and being drunk wasn't helping.

"I can't remember." Draco completely lied, trying not to smirk at his superb luck.

"Oh…"

"Well, what was it?"

"Vhat vas Vhat?"

The man had walked right into it.

"The play."

"Ya?"

"The play and the character."

"Can't you remember?" Dieter groaned and rubbed his forehead. "You can remember zhe play yes?"

"I can't remember." Draco was thoroughly enjoying himself. "What's the name?" He smiled aggressively.

Dieter didn't respond, still holding his head.

"The name." Draco demanded, "Tell me the bloody name!"

"MABETH!" Dieter shouted. Suddenly the glass in the crooked painting burst, sending particles across the room to be mingled with freshly shattered light bulbs.

Draco tackled Dieter. "Where's your wand?" He shouted, hand against the German's neck and knees pinning his arms. "Where is it?"

Dieter struggled weakly, "I don't know vhat you are talkingu about!"

Draco searched his pockets. Macbeth was known even by muggles to be a cursed word, but the effects were much more dramatic when uttered by a magical thespian.

He couldn't find a wand at all on Dieter, who had passed out and would probably not remember much when he awoke. Leaving him behind, Draco moved to search the entire house, but to no avail. The wand wasn't to be found. He didn't second-guess himself though, Dieter was definitely a wizard. Perplexed, he returned to the living room.

The perfectly muggle living room in a perfectly muggle home.

But why?

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**Well, that's about it. Who is this drunk German guy? I don't know, he just wandered in. Why is he living as a muggle? Was he born with a beer in his hand? (By the way, I don't encourage alcoholism. Drink responsibly.) **

**Please review, I know people have read it.**

**Join my legions and help me take over the world.**

**(we have dental)**

**Next chapter comes within a week.**

**-Lycan**


	3. The Coral Reef

**For those of you who have questions:**

**Be patient. They only let you put two generas up for the story, so I elected to lump mystery under drama for some good reasons.**

**...reasons yet to be explained...**

**-Lycan**

**Chapter III**

Draco needed some fresh air. It wasn't the musty stench from rubbish that sparked his need but the sounds of Dieter retching in the other room. So, slowly, he picked a trail to the front door.

The blast of a cool breeze was welcoming and sunlight overpowering. For a few hours Draco had wandered through the stale house waiting for Dieter to wake up and when the drunk had finally gotten off the floor he promptly ran to the bathroom and vomited.

Stretching his arms over his head Draco sighed, revived by scenery he had not long ago despised. Very benign looking trees lined a lane running nearby and further out farmland sat placidly on rolling hills, dotted with grazing cattle beneath an icy blue sky.

A pang of homesickness lodged itself in his chest. It was a wretched sort of feeling, full of pain more unbearable than physical reality. Like a worm slowly eating away at his innards.

He didn't want to think about home or what happened, and why he was enjoying this deceptively peaceful moment in the first place. It was a bitter, hopeless ordeal. Despite everything though, he was standing safely upon a stranger's stoop.

He looked behind him as the front door opened.

Dieter was smiling at him, his skin pallid and stretched tight over his face. A faint smell of vomit hanging around.

"Hello Villiam, how ahre you?" He continued to beam brightly.

Draco wondered how much Dieter had remembered from the night before. The fact that he remembered 'William' at all was not a good omen.

"Better than you I suppose." He quipped.

Dieter laughed lightly but genuinely and embraced Draco, who tried to hide his discomfort.

"I'hm glahd, I'hm very glahd. Vhen I first saw you, I vondered vhethor or not you vould make it. Of course, you have fully recovered yes?" He stared at Draco with unwavering green eyes, as if reading a book that brought him great misery.

It was terribly fascinating, and Draco knew somehow that that misery came from somewhere far away. Deep within the recesses of a mind.

"But of course," he cut off his own thoughts, "and my well-being is all due to the brilliant efforts of…?" He let the end trail in an obvious question, even lifting his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

Dieter looked at him blankly, "Eh?"

"Who fixed my leg?" Draco clarified bluntly. The finer workings of conversation were evidently lost on this daft man.

Dieter lightened in his comprehension.

"Oh!" He laughed, "How dumb of me yes? I must apologize, my English is ohnly simple. But, ehr, to answer your question I myself made zhe repairs."

"You?" Draco said in honest surprise. Certainly this wizard among muggles was lying. Only a real healer would have the ability to mend such an injury. Not some back-country drunkard. And even if he was a healer, where was his wand and potions? Definitely not in the house.

He smirked, "All right then, how'd you do it?"

Dieter waved his finger in mock reproach, "You know, you shouldant ahsk quehstions you have zhe answer to."

"But what if I really don't?" He tried not to glare.

Dieter rolled his eyes and smiled.

It was irritating, and Draco wanted to punch the condescending bastard.

"You muhst think me dumb. But I know your problem. You ahre just hungry." He laughed, "My cooking though is ahn emberrahsment, so vhe go out to eat in zhe town yes?"

He felt patronized, but it was well worth hiding. This was a trap. He knew it. 'William' had no good reason not to want to go to town, but Draco Malfoy, of course, had plenty. Dieter was testing him, perhaps waiting to pounce if he showed any signs of not simply being a man who got lost in the woods.

"Ahnd of course there ahre other reasons to go to town. I have no vhay of communicatingu here, but in town zhere ahre telephones. So vhat do you say?" Dieter asked quite innocently.

"That sounds great." Draco lied enthusiastically.

What choice did he have?

There was something in Dieter's garage that perhaps in some far away time and place had once been a car. This was, however quite difficult to ascertain in itself because the 'car' was in such a state of disrepair that if Draco had not seen one before he would have dismissed the mess as a mere pile of rusty scrap metal and moldy canvas.

It was a car though, and Draco feared for his life. He found himself praying the impossible thing wouldn't start and was dismayed when, with a great cough and shudder, the ancient vehicle stumbled into life.

Dieter on the other hand seemed quite proud of the red-orange monstrosity. As they drove violently down the country lane he chattered happily away, apparently oblivious to the pungent odor of petrol blowing back from the hood and seats cushions so hard on the bumpy ride that they might as well been made of steel. At one point of the drive Dieter decided that his 'car' was also a convertible and mid-turn threw back the spider-filled canvas roof and exposed them to the roaring wind and motor.

The entire trip though, Draco felt a sinking sense of dread growing in his stomach.

How big would this town be? They were looking for him, and he knew if they found him he would be helpless without his wand.

Did Dieter suspect this? Was the man not nearly as daft as he appeared? Was he actually leading him into the gaping jaws of a lion? Going to anywhere in public was a big gamble. Or was it? They were in the muggle world after all.

Draco didn't know exactly where in Germany he was, so maybe this 'town' was really a loose collection of buildings. And then again, maybe it wasn't.

Trees soared past them along with a lake. Dieter had taken up to singing some sort of tune in German so Draco just stared out the brownish window, thinking about what was to come. Dreading what he would see. Soon enough the road grew wider and houses started to dot the scenery.

They were in town in no time at all.

It was much like any other European town in the late afternoon. The streets were filled with commuter cars and buses vying for limited space. Muggles, some happy and some sad walked down the streets. They kept to themselves and didn't make eye contact. Draco had always found that somewhat savage of them.

Dieter's mood was sober as he parked on the street near a bistro.

"Zhis place has alvays been good." He remarked plainly.

They sat at an outdoor table both facing the street, and Draco noticed, both somewhat anxious. Some lady nearby sat sipping her coffee and reading the paper.

After a while, Dieter seemed to relax. He ate some sort of soup and happily sipped at a beer. Draco, likewise, at his sandwich but wary all the same.

His wariness paid off when he dodged a curse soaring past his head.

People were screaming and from beneath the table he could see two men crossing the street, wands raised.

A paralyzing fear echoed through his body and he fought it, looking for a place to run. He looked for Dieter.

There were more yells and a crash as tables were shattered into oblivion.

"DIETER!" He shouted, searching, using the table as a shield.

"VILLIAM GET AWAY!" Dieter roared back, firing curses at the two men and with stunning agility danced around their retorts. And then he disappeared into an alleyway.

To Draco's surprise, the two men followed ignoring everything else. Paper floated peacefully back to the ground and he wondered what to do. Still amid the throng of people crying and shrieking their fear for the world to bear witness to. In a limbo slowed down by time. Aggression echoed from the alleyway.

He had no wand, he was useless.

Could he leave Dieter?

Save himself.

Run away.

Would Dieter have saved him?

Dieter did save him.

It was crazy.

He had no wand.

But for once he didn't care.

So he moved.

Draco sidled his shoulder against the entrance to the alley, peeking around the corner.

Dieter was gone and both men were standing there, livid. They were shouting at each other, and one was coming his way.

At the perfect moment, Draco thrust out his foot and sent the man face first to the pavement. He dove for the dropped wand and felt a retched sting and soaking blood as a curse ripped across his back and bowled him over and away from his target.

Draco looked blearily up and saw the cruel eyes of the jeering man who had cast the spell. He raised his wand. His mouth formed a curse.

His mouth formed a frown and reddened. With a resounding crack his neck was crushed in the jaws of a white wolf and his dead weight toppled to the ground forming a glistening crimson pool.

The man on the pavement took off, yelping for fear. The wolf pursued. They disappeared.

Draco sat there for a moment staring at the corpse before him, pain dulled by adrenaline. He picked up the wand and looked for Dieter, hoping that the man would just appear out of nowhere.

"Pssst!"

It came from beneath his feet. Draco looked down at a manhole cover.

The cover seemingly on it's own accord removed itself revealing Dieter beneath it.

"Down here I think vhe'll be safe."

Draco obliged and climbed down into the dark sewer-way.

He jammed his new wand against Dieter's throat.

"We need to talk."

**For those of you who read, but do not review...**

**I know you're out there...**

**It's only polite you know. Reviews put personality to mindless statistics that read your work. ****Don't be lazy.**

**Still recruiting for the legions. I could make you deputy personal aid to the emporer of the courts...**

**(apply within)**

**The next chapter will come up in about a week. **

**-Lycan**


	4. The Sea Bed

**Finally, on with the next chapter. You all should be happy to know that I just finished the detailed outline for the last ten chapters of this story, so expect plenty of foreshadowing that you don't even know about (my favorite kind). Sorry it took so long to update, but a crisis had to be dealt with.**

**Oh, and I'd like to thank the people who have reviewed the story so far but I haven't replied to. I'd just like to say that I don't reply if I can't find anything to reply to in a review. **

**So for those of you that write general reviews:**

**Thanks anyway.**

**-Lycan**

**Chapter IV**

The putrid dampness of the sewer-way clung to every crease and crack available, permeating the very fabric of reality. A river of ungodly water rushed past the concrete walkway they stood upon, nearly drowning out the screams that still echoed above their heads. Draco, wand still at Dieter's neck glanced upwards to watch dancing shafts of light wink in and out of existence as people passed above. The sight remained in his vision when he stared at Dieter again.

"Who were those men after you?" he hissed, jabbing his wand deeper into the man's throat.

"I svear I have no ideas." Dieter replied through clenched teeth.

"Bullocks and you know it!" Draco kneed him in the groin unflinchingly. He almost smiled watching Dieter double over in pain. The bastard deserved it after all for leading them right into a trap. Wand still pointed at the German, Draco drew himself up to his full height. "I'll only ask this once again you hapless fool, tell me who the hell attacked us?"

"But of course," Dieter wheezed, "But of course. Unfortunately zhis is not zhe place or time. Vhe must keep moving, it is only a matter of time before zhey find us again."

Draco paused. As much as he didn't want to trust Dieter, his words seemed a sound judgment.

"All right," he replied after deliberating, "But give me your wand."

Dieter looked up in surprise, "Vhat?"

"Did I slur? I said give me your bloody wand!" He spat impatiently and watched as Dieter pulled his wand from a pocket much too small to fit it.

"What else do you have in there?" Draco demanded, taking the wand. It was clever, having an enchanted pocket.

"Oh, nozhingu. I just keep my wand zhere."

"You'd better." Draco pointed down the sewer-way, "You go first, try anything funny and I swear you'll regret it…Go on, hands where I can see them."

Dieter started walking, hands up, "You don'tu trust me?"

"Do you trust _me_?"

"Yes."

Draco was thrown off by this, but didn't skip a beat. "I wouldn't."

"Vhy?" he sounded incredibly innocent asking this. If Draco hadn't known better he would have thought the man an honest sort of chap.

"Just shut up and walk."

And walk Dieter did, his hair a pale blue weave in the rolling pools of light dotting the skyline. Draco wondered off-handedly how the man seemed so calm, even happy presumably knowing the full danger they had been in only moments before. Himself his hands were still trembling from adrenaline and blood continued to dampen his back from where the curse had struck him. The pain though, wasn't unmanageable.

"Dieter?"

"Vhat?" Dieter turned around, a distracted smile creeping across his face.

"You have anything for a cut?"

"Sure I do, but I need my vhand."

"Then forget it and keep walking." Draco replied nastily. He had hoped Dieter was dumb enough to reach for that pocket of his. It was dangerous not knowing what he hid there. "You sure you don't have anything else in your pocket?"

Dieter chuckled, "Yes, itz just for my vhand." He looked over his shoulder at Draco, smiling. "You still vhant to know who vhas chasingu me?"

"Yes." He replied slowly.

"Vell, I can't tell you thot either."

Draco glared, ready to sock Dieter.

"But," he shook a finger ruefully, "I con tell you vhy."

He hated being patronized. Dieter obviously didn't realize that a man in his situation had no right to be cheerful. It was sickeningly indecent.

"All right," he grudgingly relented, "tell me."

Dieter smiled, apparently enjoying the irritation he wrought. "I rohbbed a bahnk."

Draco stopped. "You robbed a bank?"

"Ya."

"Do me a favor,"

"Ya?"

"Sod off," He stormed past Dieter, who had a confused look on his face. This was the last straw, danger or not he wasn't going to spend another minute with the glib little cockroach.

"Sod off?" Dieter called, catching up to him, "I don'tu underhstand."

Draco wheeled around, seething. "It means- Do you take me for a bloody fool?!"

"Vhat do-"

"Do I look stupid to you?!"

"Bot I-"

"Did you think for an instant I would honestly think a fish like you actually robbed a bank?!"

"Bot I did rob a-"

"No you bloody didn't you dumb fuck!" He stabbed his wand at Dieter's face, "Tell me you robbed a bank, I dare you!"

Dieter held up his hands in a lazy surrender, completely unalarmed. "Villiam."

"What?!"

"Viliam."

"What?"

"Calm down."

He snarled, "You have no right to tell me what to do." Draco dug his wand into Dieter's cheek, "I'm the one with the wand here, and if you think I won't kill you then you're sorely mistaken."

"You vouldan't kill me."

"You wanna bet?"

Dieter just looked at him.

"I've done it before," Draco added lamely.

"Even if thot ver true you still vouldan't kill me."

Draco lowered his wand, bewildered by the person standing so placidly before him. The man had simply shrugged off a death threat. His anger melted into confusion. "Why- why do you think that?"

"Ya?"

"You're a complete stranger, what makes you think I wouldn't just kill you?"

"I dohn't think you're thot cold."

"You don't?" Something eerie crept up Draco's spine as he stood under Dieter's calm gaze.

"You know vot I think Villiam?"

"What?"

"I think you ahre in trouhble, ahre ailone, ahnd need help."

Dieter, evidently, was much more than he seemed. Draco had never hinted or slipped what had happened, or why he was there and yet Dieter knew. Somehow he knew.

They stood there, time chafing between them for an eternity. Dieter's eyes: wells of sincerity.

"You, know…" Draco's words fell flat.

Dieter smiled without joy, "Vhe ahre more ahlike thon you think." He turned to lead once again down the tunnel, and Draco followed without protest.

He was much, much more than he seemed.

"You- you didn't really rob a bank did you?" Draco ventured after a while.

"No." Came with another painful smile.

"You won't tell me what you did either."

"Thot's right, and I dohn't vhant to hear about vhat you did."

Somehow Draco was fine with this. It didn't really matter anyway. What was most important was escape.

As if Dieter knew what Draco was thinking about he said, "I hauve a connehction in town thot haus offered to geht me out of here. You ahre very velcome to come alongu. It'z vhy vhe ahre here in zhe firhst place."

I haven't got much of a choice now do I?" He was overjoyed that Dieter had some sort of plan after all.

"Villiam?"

"Yeah?"

"May I hauve my vhand bock?"

Draco handed the wand over and watched Dieter reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial.

"You lied."

"Ya," Dieter smiled, "I do thot sohmetimes, but not ahs often ahs people think."

The vial turned out to be dittany, which Dieter applied swiftly and efficiently with a few well chosen spells to relieve what was a gaping wound on Draco's back.

"You shouhld be fine." He said afterwards, "But try not jump in front of curses nechts time ya?"

Remarks like that over a few hours of walking in the putrid labyrinth eventually put Draco in a decent mood. With pretensions set aside Dieter turned out to be most excellent company, with a near brusque sort of manner he could not help but admire. But no matter his conversation something gloomy lurked in his personage that Draco could not detect before, carefully tucked away to but the edges of the man's livelihood. A black aura hung about him, blurring the line between joy and sorrow. And despite the topic being off-limits Draco couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his new-found comrade that could mist a smile beyond recognition.

Dieter however, did not seem to share the same interest, for he had stopped beneath a man-hole.

"I think vhe ahre here."

"You sure?" came the automatic response.

Dieter looked at Draco, grinning. "Of course not, but thot's vhat makes it fun ya?"

As unnerving as the comment was, it was only a joke.

After Dieter gave the O.K. Draco pulled himself into a cramped alleyway lined with stoops and trashcans over-filled with rubbish.

Dieter climbed one of these stoops and knocked on its door with three resounding fists.

A shadow crossed the window, and the portal opened.

**Well, there's chapter four. Mostly character-building yes, but I swear it's important. As always be polite readers and review.**

**-Lycan**


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